91ÊÓƵ

Conservative voters in rural areas of the state often curse the People’s Republic of Portland for blocking their attempts to keep Oregon from sliding down assorted slippery slopes.

Or so they believe.

Portlanders, on the other hand, frequently labor under the conceit that they are the regional distributors of all things hip, cool and fashionably “weird.”

Before both sides get too comfortable in their assumptions, they ought to take a drive down U.S. Route 20 and grab a bag of chips at the little Cottonwoods Market. There is a lesson to be learned there by pausing and looking at the vacant lot across the street.

Actually, it might be better if they closed their eyes and just listened. They just might be able to hear the echoes of Louis Armstrong, Count Basie, Duke Ellington and the Nat King Cole Trio. Some of the greatest names in 20th century music performed in this forgotten spot in rural Oregon when it was the site of the Cottonwoods Ballroom.

Now, drive 74.1 miles north to 240 N. Broadway in Portland to what is now the Hazelwood Building. In the early 1940s, it was known as the Dude Ranch. Jazz joints were jumpin’ in those days. This one hit the stratosphere.

Local shipyards were turning out hundreds of ships for the war effort, throwing together workers who had never had much to do with each other before. After work, they hit the Dude Ranch or one of the other hot spots along Williams Street in what is now the Rose Quarter. The party continued after servicemen returned from the war.

Of all the jazz clubs, the Dude Ranch was reputedly the best. It certainly put the Cottonwoods Ballroom to shame.

The distinctive triangular Dude Ranch building was constructed in 1923. It was designed by Portland architect A.E. Doyle, who also designed the Multnomah County Central Library, the Benson Hotel, the Meier & Frank Building and the Pittock Block, among more than two dozen other iconic Portland buildings.

The building housed a restaurant, a bakery, a creamery and a confectionary before it achieved legendary status as the Dude Ranch.

If you think Portland is hip now, think what it must have been like on Dec. 5, 1945. That was that night of nights when saxophonist Coleman Hawkins and trombonist Roy Eldridge (both legends in their own right) came to the Dude Ranch and jammed with none other than jazz icon Thelonious Monk. By many an account, it was arguably the greatest night of jazz Oregon has ever seen.

Then it all came to an abrupt halt.

Just months after the legendary jam session, there was an accidental shooting. It was not at the Dude Ranch. However, it was close enough to be associated with Portland’s African-American community. City officials did what any conscientious, frightened, ignorant, bigoted fools would do – especially in the segregated 1940s.

They lashed out in fear, ignorance and bigotry at innocent people. They ordered that the Dude Ranch be shut down … immediately. Artists such as Billie Holiday and the Nat King Cole Trio, who already had gigs booked at the Dude Ranch, were told they were no longer welcome in Portland. Their presence might prove “disruptive.”

Meanwhile, the party continued at the Cottonwoods Ballroom. It even grew louder. As jazz gave way to rock ‘n’ roll, acts like Fats Domino, Little Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis, Chuck Berry and Johnny Cash came to the little hole off of U.S. Route 20. Rumor has it that even Elvis Presley played there.

These were the days when big-name entertainers would play even the smallest venues. That may be hard to fathom in an age when a flavor of the month like Justin Bieber can sell out coliseums. Yet Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens and the Big Bopper died in a plane crash in 1959 after playing a gig in Clear Lake, Iowa.

The Cottonwoods Ballroom stood from 1930 to 1959. It struggled back to life a few times, becoming perhaps Oregon’s most rural disco nightclub in the 1970s. Then it was a bingo hall and community center in the 1980s before a windstorm tore off the roof and damaged the building beyond repair. It was bulldozed shortly thereafter.

However, this little venue out in the middle of nowhere (by Portland standards) weathered prejudice and the changing winds of popular tastes far better than its big city counterparts.

I first heard this tale of two cities from my friend and fellow history geek Finn John. We have a saying in my circle of friends. “Ask a simple question. Get a Finn John answer.” (Sometimes they substitute my name.) Personally, I am grateful. The answers are long, but they always inspire curiosity and further research. This one taught me a lesson about reputations.

“Reputation,” Shakespeare wrote, “is an idle and most false imposition, oft got without merit and lost without deserving.”

That is certainly true of the reputations of urban and rural Oregon. It was rural Oregon voters, after all, who supported the right of women to vote. However, the first five ballot measures were blocked by Portland and its stuffy conservatives.

Portland may be hip, and rural Oregon might need a certain amount of hip replacement, but a city that closed its doors to Billie Holiday should watch its ego.

“Building Curiosity” investigates intriguing, historical and obscure tidbits of the built environment. Tom Henderson is a reporter for the Daily Journal of Commerce. Contact him at 503-802-7226 or [email protected].